


the art of regretting everything

by MasqueofRedDeath



Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: M/M, Mentions of Sexual Assault, hurt comfort
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-04-28
Updated: 2013-04-28
Packaged: 2017-12-09 18:28:40
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,182
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/776620
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MasqueofRedDeath/pseuds/MasqueofRedDeath
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Stiles fucks up at a house party.</p>
            </blockquote>





	the art of regretting everything

**Author's Note:**

> someone (vernonboyd) said a thing on tumblr and i agreed with that thing so i wrote this. i hope this was what you had in mind. and if it wasn't, i hope you still like it. 
> 
> also i'm sorry for mistakes. i took time out of doing a really important thing to fill this sort of prompt and now i have to get back to that really important thing. 
> 
> like, it's super important.
> 
> all of eastern canada depends on it. 
> 
> enjoy.

Stiles couldn't believe how bad he'd fucked up. 

It was incredible, actually, how quickly things had gone south once he'd finished off the stolen bottle of his Dad's Jack Daniels. It was kind of a big, horny blur of Derek's name and someone's button-down falling apart in his hands and then suddenly Scott was shaking him by the shoulders while he stared up from a patio chair, wondering where the house party had gone.

"What the fuck were you doing?" Scott snapped. "What about Derek?"

Oh shit, Derek. He couldn't fathom how he had forgotten that Derek wasn't a fixture of his sexually frustrated dreams. Derek was his boyfriend.

That guy in the house... That hadn't been Derek.

"Uh oh..."

***

Stiles was hung the fuck over the next morning when Scott dumped him off at Derek's house. His head was pounding and his whole body felt shaky, like he'd been dunked in the middle ocean and left out in the Iqaluit night.

Derek opened the front door just as Stiles began crunching up the driveway. It was almost painful to look at him, because he didn't know any of what had happened the night before. He looked so happy to see Stiles. Derek was wearing pajama pants and had pillow lines on his face.

He'd told Stiles once that he used to sleep like a rock when his family was still alive. It was getting harder and harder to wake Derek up.

Stiles stomach was full of lead.

"Was your first college party worth it?" Derek asked.

Stiles forced himself to meet Derek's eyes, and he knew that he was about three seconds away from crying. Derek's face fell and in an instant he was holding Stiles' shoulders.

"Are you okay?" he asked. "Stiles, look at me."

Stiles couldn't though. Because he was so bad at this, so bad at being Derek's boyfriend, so bad at being what another person needed. He couldn't even last a year without ruining one of the few things he'd managed to build.

"I'm so sorry," he said. "Derek... Derek, I'm sorry."

***

Stiles went into hysterics, all tears and snot and gripping onto Derek like he was being physically dragged away by something unseen. Well, in a sense he was.

Derek helped him to the couch in his living room and put a blanket around him without a word. Stiles calmed down when Derek went to go get coffee from the kitchen. He came back with a cup of chai for Stiles and the hysterics almost started again because Derek knew exactly how he liked his tea. He didn't have to ask. Derek just knew what he needed.

Stiles sniffled. Took a sip.

By all appearances Derek was patiently waiting for Stiles to start talking. But his hands shook when he put his mug on the coffee table and Stiles could see he was chewing the inside of his cheek.

"What happened?" Derek finally asked.

Stiles put his forehead in his left hand and used the other to toy with the string on the teabag. "I did stuff..." he mumbled. "With another guy."

He wasn't looking at Derek, but he could hear the reaction. Derek's breath caught and his teeth clicked together. It was a moment before Derek said, "What kind of stuff?" and he didn't sound angry. Just very small.

"Hand jobs. Kissing." And it's stupid how 'kissing' feels like so much more of a betrayal. "Derek, I would never - "

"But you did."

"...I did." Stiles doubled over, hugging his knees. "Fuck, I didn't even know it was happening. And then suddenly..."

"What?!" Derek snapped. Stiles breath caught. He could hear the rage he had expected. "You didn't know? Who the fuck was it? Did he hurt you?!"

Stiles looked up in surprise and there was Derek, hovering over him, looking like he wasn't sure where to touch. His eyes were big and scared in a way Stiles had never seen before. "Derek - " he started.

"Did he make you do anything you didn't want to?" Derek asked, and his voice was like steel despite how his face looked.

"No." Stiles voice cracked a little on the admission. "No, I wanted it. But I didn't. I wanted you. It was my fault - "

"Would you have done it sober?"

There was a hand on his shoulder and Stiles face brushed against Derek's arm when he shook his head. "No, God no."

Derek rested his forehead on Stiles. "Please tell me you're not lying."

"I'm not. Derek, it's just you. And I'm so sorry."

Stiles knew that Derek could tell lies from truth. He knew that Derek could smell lies - could hear the truth in the beat of Stiles heart. Derek slid down a little, resting his ear against Stiles' chest. He felt Derek's hot breath on his collarbone.

"Can you forgive me?" Stiles asked.

Derek inhaled the scent of Stiles skin and shirt - alcohol and shame and sweat and Stiles. "There's nothing to forgive." He nosed his way up Stiles chest, running his hands through his hair. Stiles felt something break in his chest as Derek's silvery eyes met his. "Even if you did something wrong..." Derek shook his head, casting his gaze to the ceiling. "Stiles, you could fuck up a billion times a day and I'd still love you just as much, okay?"

"Really?"

Derek snorted, leaning up to kiss Stiles on the cheek. "Are you okay? Do you want to... I don't know, file a report? Talk to someone?"

Stiles felt his stomach knot again. "We were both drunk, Derek. It was a mutual drunken grope." Stiles felt like this was too easy, like he'd gotten off of the hook when he shouldn't have. "Aren't you mad? I wanted it, Derek. When it was happening I wanted it and I feel so fucking awful about it that I want to throw up."

Derek pulled himself up onto the couch, putting his hands on his knees. After a moment he reached over and grabbed his coffee, gone half cold. "I'm not mad. Not thrilled, but..." He shrugged. "I don't want to lose you."

Stiles could tell it was supposed to sound casual, like a brush off, but Derek's voice had gone a little uneven. Stiles put his hand over Derek's and squeezed. "I don't want to lose you either."

"So never again?" Derek asked.

Stiles rolled his eyes and bumped his knee against Derek's. "Not in a million years."

***

Stiles finished half of his tea, but his head was pounding and his body was worn out from the hangover and the anxiety. Derek walked with him up to his bedroom and made a show of tucking him in.

Stiles fell asleep once Derek left the room and woke up two hours later with a wet cloth over his eyes and a bottle of water beside the bed.

On the label Derek wrote 'Love you' with blue whiteboard marker. Stiles whole chest went warm at Derek's awful chicken scratch. He held the water bottle up to his face.

"Love you too."

Something creaked downstairs - Derek heard him.

**Author's Note:**

> in case you were wondering, the important thing was cleaning my room.


End file.
